


Upside-Down

by goresque



Series: Taken In Hand [5]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Other, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Rimming, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, gaping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:41:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28538259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goresque/pseuds/goresque
Summary: Ironhide and Sunstreaker play out a scene in public atVisages
Relationships: Ironhide/Sunstreaker (Transformers)
Series: Taken In Hand [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571881
Comments: 14
Kudos: 41





	Upside-Down

**Author's Note:**

> behold! porn!
> 
> all of this is pre-discussed and planned. Sunstreaker is an enthusiastic and willing participant.

Sunstreaker had been revved long before they entered  _ Visages. _ The negotiation leading up this particular scene had been long and arduous. Sunstreaker had wrestled with his own limits, which Ironhide insisted needed to be perfectly clear this time ‘round, until they found a compromise together that he could revel in. It was filthy, and exciting, and he was barely contained in his own armor. 

It still didn’t change how impatient he was. In fact, it made him more so. 

Ironhide settled them in a marked off play space, with yellow lights surrounding them to indicate crowd interaction could be negotiated. 

“That can change whenever you want,” Ironhide rumbled, pointing to the lights. “Say the word and I’ll change us to a red zone.”

Instead of saying  _ ‘yes, Daddy, thank you’ _ as was expected of him as a good little submissive, Sunstreaker growled out, “I know. I’m fine.”

It only made Ironhide laugh. His big servos moved too fast for Sunstreaker to react, gripping one helm fin and yanking his submissive into his lap where he sat on the sofa within their play zone. He curled a hand around Sunstreaker’s hip, squeezing the metal so hard it creaked. “Gunnin’ fer a spanking right away, bitch?”

“No,” Sunstreaker muttered, scowling as he turned his helm away from Ironhide in a small act of defiance. He was expected to meet his dominant’s optics at every point; the fact he willfully looked away proved his disobedience. This time when Ironhide gripped his jaw and forced him to look at him he amended, “No, Daddy.”

“That’s a good lil slut. You gonna get down and lube up my spike, or am I fucking that port of yours dry?” The way Ironhide said it was positively sinful. He knew Sunstreaker’s opinions on giving oral, and he didn’t care. And honestly, with their scene gathering attention, Sunstreaker didn’t either. But he wasn’t about to give in easily. 

Sunstreaker kept his jaw clenched tight and his optics averted. Ironhide’s grip on his jaw tightened.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling merciful,” Ironhide growled, shoving Sunstreaker promptly onto the floor. While his submissive gathered himself up he spread his thighs apart and leaned back against the sofa. “Let’s save your aft the trouble of being run raw so quick, and you can lube up my spike. It’s entirely up to you how rough you want to get it. You get uppity during, I’ll just fuck you dry.”

Sunstreaker scowled, not bothering to hide his displeasure. Nobody ever said he had to be a  _ good _ submissive, and he was going to take that and run with it. Besides, he knew for a fact Ironhide liked doling out punishments, and he himself rather enjoyed taking them. It was all about finding the balance.

“Well, bitch?”

Sunstreaker relented, and sat up on his knees with servos resting in his lap. He waited for Ironhide to release his spike before acting. Sunstreaker folded his arms behind his back as he leaned his helm forward, jaw hanging open in anticipation of Ironhide’s shaft.

Ironhide fed his spike past Sunstreaker’s lips with relative ease. His cord opened up Sunstreaker’s well trained throat, making him jerk at first, then relax as Ironhide fucked his intake open. Lubricant welled up around Ironhide’s spike until it was dripping out in thick strings from Sunstreaker’s jaw. 

Fists clenched behind his back, Sunstreaker endured bobbing along Ironhide’s wicked spike. The nodes and ribs along the underside of Ironhide’s spike rubbed against the inside of Sunstreaker’s throat tubing, making him flex around his dominant’s unyielding rod. Though he craved the curve of Ironhide’s servo along the back of his neck, the humiliation of being made to choke along his spike made him want to do something nasty regardless of punishment. 

Of course, even the barest scrape against Ironhide’s spike had his dominant jerking him off, servo clamped tight over Sunstreaker’s mouth and jaw.

“You want me to frag your tight little hole already?” Ironhide growled, shaking Sunstreaker’s head in his grip. He moved him like one would a doll. Sunstreaker still managed a sneer. “Can’t bother getting my spike wet and slick with your throat slop? I’m only doing it for your benefit.”

Sunstreaker stayed stubbornly silent. 

Ironhide heaved a heavy sigh as he released Sunstreaker’s face. He planted a pede flat against Sunstreaker’s abdomen, forcing his sub to brace against him, and then  _ shoved. _

“I get you want to be taken like a raw little slut,” Ironhide growled against Sunstreaker’s heated audial. His servos groped his submissive’s legs apart until he was spread prone on the floor, all of Ironhide’s weight bearing down on him. “But if you want my spike in your filthy port with just some spit as lube, then you have to beg for it.”

The bite of humiliation twisted in Sunstreaker’s tank. He thrashed beneath Ironhide, the whole of his strength thrown into his flailing. He forced Ironhide into pinning him under all four of his limbs until he was all Sunstreaker could feel, encompassing his entire sensorsuite with his overwhelming presence. He only stilled when he felt Ironhide’s spike probe at his unprepared aft hole.

Cheeks burning, Sunstreaker turned his head away, and murmured, “Fingers please.”

“What was that, fuckhole?” Ironhide revved. 

“I want your fingers, please,” Sunstreaker said, voice dipping low and sultry. He added, like an afterthought, “Daddy.”

“That’s a good bitch,” Ironhide praised, one of his warm, big servos smoothing down Sunstreaker’s neck and pauldron in a possessive swipe. “See how pretty you are when you’re well behaved? I’ll give you what you need. Put yer servo right here- that’s good. Other one too.”

Ironhide rearranged Sunstreaker as he saw fit, forcing Sunstreaker to spread the plates of his aft apart. His hole twitched once exposed, and Ironhide prodded him with a blunt finger large enough to make him jerk away with a gasp of almost-fear. 

“Tell me what you want,” Ironhide demanded, his dry finger grinding against Sunstreaker’s aft hole. It didn’t hurt, not like it would have if he were being penetrated dry. No, it was pressure, and hot, and Ironhide’s finger dug in  _ just enough _ – 

He was struck across the cheek.

“Pay attention, bitch!” Ironhide’s tone was gruff. Sunstreaker couldn’t help the pulse of fluids that dripped forth from his neglected valve. The chuckle from behind him reminded him that not only was he acting like some weak harlot, but Ironhide was  _ laughing _ at him for it. “‘M gettin’ tired of repeating myself. You gonna be my fuckhole, or not?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Sunstreaker whispered, hands trembling where they held his aft open and apart. He was propped up on his shoulders, head turned to stare at the wall. He was looking, but he wasn’t really seeing it from the murky headspace of submission.

“Tell me how you want your port lubed,” Ironhide demanded, fingertip digging deeper into Sunstreaker’s port.

“Please spit in my port,” Sunstreaker begged, his desperation filtering through as he rapidly lost the willpower to keep up his proud defiance. “I’ll- I’ll be good. Promise, Daddy.”

“Yeah you will. Good boy, telling me what you want. I like hearing all the nasty things you want yer daddy to do to ya.” Ironhide stroked down Sunstreaker’s back as he praised him. “Keep talking, while I lick yer hole.”

Sunstreaker stayed defiant in his silence. Even as Ironhide leaned forward to lick a stripe from the caudal node at the base of his valve up to his port. Ironhide didn’t stop there, tongue drilling into his tight hole with a fierce hunger. A tremble cascaded through Sunstreaker’s thighs.

“I said keep talking,” Ironhide prodded. His absent tongue left Sunstreaker feeling cold.

Obviously, he was waiting. Sunstreaker grit his teeth, and whispered, “I like when you lick my port, Daddy. It feels good.”

“There ya go, good boy. You keep tellin’ me what you want to happen to you,” Ironhide reminded, giving Sunstreaker’s aft a pleasant squeeze. 

Behind the pulse of his aft hole being worked open on Ironhide’s slick glossa, Sunstreaker’s embarrassment ebbed and he was left with the burn to his pride.

“Want you in my port– so everyone can- can see.” Sunstreaker tried to shove down the humiliated stone in his gut. As Ironhide’s tongue pried his port open, Sunstreaker was forced to reevaluate the priority of events. Though they had a rigorous script, there were certain things he was allowed to do in whatever order he chose. “I like it when others– see me.”

Sunstreaker’s voice hitched as Ironhide worked a finger in beside his tongue, able to pull Sunstreaker’s aft open wider. His hole was still tense, but relaxing with Ironhide’s assured patience. 

“Good boy for me,” Ironhide crooned, another spit-lubed finger stretching Sunstreaker’s port rim. It stretched, malleable and soft under his expert touch, and Ironhide was able to see just how Sunstreaker was coming undone for him. His jaw was tight, grimacing against the floor, and his thighs quivered with every push and prod of Ironhide’s digits. He spread his fingers to hold Sunstreaker open, and leaned over to dribble oral lubricant into his hole in long, thick strings.

“Feel that, bitch? All my lube in your hot little port? It ain’t gonna be enough.” purred Ironhide once he’d deposited a properly filthy amount of spit in his hole, “You want it to hurt, baby?”

“Yes!” Sunstreaker gasped, jaw clenched tight to keep from outright wailing. His spike was thick and pulsing between his thighs, thin lines of pre-fluid dripping from his jack. His arms trembled as he struggled to hold his aft plates apart consistently. “Please, please, I want it to stretch–”

Sunstreaker was cut off by another finger stabbing into his port and thrusting without mercy. Something in Sunstreaker’s frame snapped, and his port was no longer tense. It became slack and lax under Ironhide’s vicious digits. Only once he had teased most of an overload out of Sunstreaker, did he pull his fingers out in an abrupt shock of sensation. 

A strangled moan choked out of Sunstreaker’s throat. He was crumbling under the weight of Ironhide’s will, like he was being dashed into the floor by a weight larger than himself. His hips jerked, the tip of his spike rubbing against the floor as he rutted and drooled. 

“Beg, bitch,” Ironhide barked, one strong hand curling around Sunstreaker’s helm fin. He jerked his helm back and kicked him into a position more to his liking. Ironhide lowered himself to his knees with his spike laying heavy between Sunstreaker’s aft plates. “And for fuck’s sake, spread your aft!”

Sunstreaker wailed as he was spanked several times across both aft plates. He struggled to adjust his grip without letting go. Once he felt he’d found a good position, Ironhide would whack him and he would lose the precarious hold he’d found. A wayward tear snuck down the side of Sunstreaker’s face in his frustration. 

Ironhide finally allowed him to hold position enough to focus himself around forming glyphs, “Please spike my port, daddy–” Sunstreaker choked as the bulbous head of Ironhide’s spike nudged his twitching hole. The words warbled to a stop as he was pushed down with the force of Ironhide’s thrust.

A shriek reverberated around the playroom– Sunstreaker became overwhelmingly aware, with Ironhide shoving into his unready port, of the crowd he had gathered. Not just with that scream, but with his entire performance. There was a comfortable string of mecha surrounding their play space. He whimpered and turned his face into the floor, too humiliated to check if it was anyone he’d played with before.

“Love takin’ ya by surprise,” Ironhide grunted into his audial. Ironhide sunk in slow, several more shallow thrusts to ease his path. Every push in got a punched-out cry from Sunstreaker, who was scrabbling to hold himself together at Ironhide’s orders. Ironhide snatched Sunstreaker’s helm fin again, forcing him to arch his back with his neck bent. “See’m, baby? They’re loving this. They love seein’ you get your little hole wrecked. Now say thank you, bitch.”

Sunstreaker sobbed, gasping for air as Ironhide spanked him with every brutal jerk of his hips. Sunstreaker didn’t know how he still had  _ more _ of his spike to go. Every thrust in pulled another wrung-out sob from him, no doubt giving everyone watching a lovely show.

“Hey! You!” Sunstreaker was jerked out of his isolation to focus on who Ironhide was speaking to. He rose his helm to see a mech walking forward, edging close to the yellow tape to not get too close. Ironhide hadn’t checked in with him, so he wasn’t sure what to expect from this newcomer.

_ [Ain’t gonna let her touch ya,] _ Ironhide prodded from over comms, already sensing Sunstreaker’s unease. At his glyphs, Sunstreaker relaxed noticeably.  _ [Just gonna let her watch my spike go in and out of ya. Already commed her, she knows the rules.] _

“Hey, sweetness, you looked real interested,” Ironhide purred to their guest. He had one servo on Sunstreaker’s hip still, his spike pushing in and out with some resistance still. “Can I touch ya a little? Nothin’ big, just wanna give you the full experience.”

Jealousy stirred in Sunstreaker like a hot coal. He was laid out like a prime pigotron for roast, and here was some- some  _ stranger _ getting Ironhide’s attention. He shifted, only to be righted with both of Ironhide’s servos and then spanks rained down across his aft. 

“Be still, bitch. I’m samplin’ the crowd,” Ironhide rumbled. Sunstreaker watched as his dominant curled one arm around the newcomer and kissed her. There was minimal groping, though Sunstreaker could smell the scent of lubricant. It might have been his own, though.

“Don’t mind my slut,” Ironhide hummed to their guest. Sunstreaker found himself tensing up, which only made his aft burn more. “He’s just a lil’ jealous. You should have a look at his aft, though. Worth every biting glyph.”

Sunstreaker fell out of his own processor when Ironhide described him to the newcomer. He moaned into his arms and focused instead on Ironhide’s spike splitting him open. His aft burned less, more a dull ache that was rapidly blooming into traditional pleasure as Ironhide worked him hard on his cord. He ignored the words, instead turning his attention to the way their guest watched him with rapt attention, barely paying attention to Ironhide’s servo on her waist. Instead she was focused on  _ him, _ and the way his port swallowed his dominant’s spike plate by plate.

It struck him that even if she enjoyed Ironhide’s attentions, she wasn’t here for him– she was here for  _ Sunstreaker. _

Sunstreaker relaxed into the floor. Ironhide would probably call him conceited, for being upset by the prospect that his audience was being taken from him. He couldn’t help himself. He hoped he would.

“Thanks, doll.” Sunstreaker heard the tell tail sign of an aft that wasn’t his being smacked, “And enjoy the show!”

Sunstreaker’s helm fin was yanked again to get his attention. He groaned as Ironhide pulled him back onto his spike again, eliciting a soft sob under his breath. He was split open and wrapped so tightly around Ironhide he wasn’t sure he would ever become himself again.

“Ya like when I pick mechs outta the crowd to ogle ya?” Ironhide purred against Sunstreaker’s helm. “I really don’t need ta. You got the whole room’s attention.”

As he glanced out over the crowd again, Sunstreaker saw he did in fact have most of the room’s attention. Which, since they were the only couple playing in a tape zone, was not abnormal. He also knew Ironhide had a bit of a reputation when it came to breaking down a sub on display. 

“Here, bitch, get up.” Ironhide pulled out at the same time as he pushed himself back up onto the couch he’d been on before. It left Sunstreaker feeling achingly empty, and just a little bit like jelly. “Let’s give them a view of yer aft while I fuck it.”

As he was tugged into Ironhide’s lap Sunstreaker wondered if this was what a religious experience felt like.

Clinging to his dominant, Sunstreaker tilted his hips for Ironhide to guide the broad head of his spike into his slack rim. It hurt very briefly, until the widest part of Ironhide’s spike pressed through, and Sunstreaker’s port swallowed him in greedy gulps. Wheezing, Sunstreaker found himself seated on Ironhide’s spike with their pelvic armor touching and his hungry port exposed to his audience. 

“They’re all watchin’ real, real close,” Ironhide hummed, as if Sunstreaker could get any hotter. Still his cheeks heated with the humiliation of an entire room watching him eagerly take a spike in his port. The rumors that would spark, the propositions that would come… “Hey, come back to me, babe.”

The way Ironhide tapped his cheek was– tender. There was a touch of concern in Ironhide’s field as it pulsed out, seeking Sunstreaker’s response. Sunstreaker could barely manage to ripple his field in some manner of return. 

He slurred, “Daddy?”

“You’re doin’ good for me, sweetness, how about you try an’ overload?” Ironhide said, one of his servos even engulfing Sunstreaker’s spike between them. “Think you can be a perfect lil’ slut for me? Show all these fine folks how good your port looks when ya overload all over my spike?”

Sunstreaker jerked his helm up and down. He clutched Ironhide by the top of his windshield, legs folded tight against his dominant’s frame. He bobbed his hips a couple times in an attempt to elicit more praise from Ironhide, but only managed to wail and rut down like an exhausted animal.

“Need some help, baby?” Ironhide crooned. He didn’t wait for an answer before he had Sunstreaker’s whole body in his grip, helping to raise him up and down. “You’ll have to play with your spike. I’ve got you. Lemme make you feel good.”

Sunstreaker surrendered himself to Ironhides machinations. He rested his helm on his dominant’s windshield at the same time as he reached down to squeeze his spike in hurried, slick motion. Everything about him was wet and dripping still. He vanished in the pleasure that twisted his port inside out and made him feel like he was being held upside down and shaken until he cried. 

Sunstreaker overloaded with his port clenching tight around Ironhide’s unrelenting spike, his rim twitching as electric charge arced along their connection. Sunstreaker could do nothing as he was used like a ragdoll for his dominant’s pleasure, hole battered until Ironhide grunted and released his charged fluids inside. 

“That’s good, bitch,” Ironhide groaned. He gripped Sunstreaker’s hips tight enough to pinch and then lifted him entirely off his spike in one cold motion. Sunstreaker was given no reprieve. Ironhide’s fingers sought out his port, both hands working to stretch his aft plates apart and spread his hole open for the audience to see. 

Sunstreaker couldn’t feel, but he was certain there was transfluid leaking out of him by now. He felt like he should have been upset at that. Didn’t he hate when his partners came inside him? He couldn’t bring himself to care. His port must be wrecked looking, perhaps even with a little gape. He wondered if he would tighten up at all before Ironhide fucked his port all over again.

“You did so good, baby,” Ironhide murmured as he gathered Sunstreaker up, folding his knees up so that he could turn him sideways across his lap. Sunstreaker thought he saw a cleaning cloth out of the corner of his optics, but found he barely had the energy to lift his helm. “You gonna be good for me? Let me hold ya, ‘n keep ya warm?”

Sunstreaker nodded as he buried his face into Ironhide’s thick, warm neck. A fresh wave of tears spilled forth as he was taken into hand and cared for so expertly. Ironhide pet him once he was cleaned up, wiping away tears with his digits. Sunstreaker wasn’t even sure why he was crying.

“Proud of you, sweetness,” Ironhide rumbled, his strong servo weighing down on Sunstreaker’s back. He held him as he relaxed into jelly, limp against Ironhide’s frame.

Sunstreaker only grunted, content that he had left his impression on the crowd.


End file.
